


A Stab of Happiness

by DragonThistle



Series: A Black Backpack Full of Fireworks [1]
Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Black Hat and Flug leave the office for a while for a nice night on the town, Flug has a praise kink, Flug's got guts okay he works for Black Hat, M/M, fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonThistle/pseuds/DragonThistle
Summary: Even a couple of reasonably intelligent villains need a break from the daily grind of the workplace. Sometimes it's just nice to go out and stir up some trouble.





	A Stab of Happiness

Flug's fingers twitched and he dropped his fork. It clanged noisily against the porcelain plate and tinkled across the tabletop. It made the inventor flinch, ducking his head to avoid the stares of the other patrons in the restaurant. Wary and shivering slightly, he chanced a glance up at the figure across the table.

Black Hat's eye was lidded and there was a tender sort of smirk on his face, showing just a hint of his dagger sharp teeth. Flug swallowed past the lump in his throat and picked up his fork again. Black Hat's smile widened ever so slightly and Flug felt his face heat up under the bag pulled over his head. He felt ridiculous for fumbling so much. But his nerves were always on edge around his boss, whether it was during work or after hours.

Black Hat was rough and cruel and cold and freely manhandled Flug whenever he pleased, often leaving marks or bruises. But he always tended to them afterwards, in his own aloof way. Flug's back was still tender from being slammed against the wall yesterday evening during a shoot that hadn't gone so well. When the cameras had turned off, Black Hat had run his sharp fingertips down Flug's spine in a clinical fashion, told him to make plans for the next night, and walked away.

Flug pushed some asparagus around his plate, watching it sop up the melted buttered drizzled over the garlic and potatoes nearby. He was nervous as hell...and horribly excited.

"Dr. Flug," The inventor jumped, dark goggles flashing as he raised his head to meet his boss' gaze, "Eat. You'll need your energy."

The heat on his face trickled down to his neck, making the collar of his dress shirt feel tight, "Y-yes, sir, so-sorry, sir."

"Good," Black Hat purred as Flug hastily shoveled some of the stringy vegetables under the bag to eat them, "We're going a bit out of our way tonight and I want to make sure you've got enough to make the trip."

Flug paused, butter and potatoes dripping off his fork as he looked up again, "Where to, sir?"

"A surprise." Black Hat somehow managed to show all his teeth in one dark grin and it sent shivers down Flug's spine.

Silence settled in as they turned back to their meals. Black Hat was slicing his nearly raw steak into delicate pieces and eating them one at a time, clearly relishing the flavor. Flug watched him as he continued to eat, unashamedly fascinated by his boss' sharp teeth and long tongue and marble gray skin. Black Hat was an enigma and while Flug had something of an inclination to what his employer might have been, he had nothing to prove his theories. Not that he was sure he wanted to.

Black Hat was feared for a reason.

****

Dr. Flug dozed off on the drive to...wherever they were going. The soft rumble of Black Hat's luxury vehicle and the full meal in his belly lured him into a light sleep, head slumping against the passenger window of the car. He only woke up when he felt the car stop moving, blinking dazedly as he shook off the dregs of sleep.

"We're here." Black Hat stepped out of the car and appeared on the other side in a whirl of coat tails, opening Flug's door before the inventor even got his seatbelt undone. Black Hat grinned, holding out a clawed hand. Flug took it nervously, palms sweating through the soft, dark blue leather gloves he'd donned for the evening, and let Black Het help him out of the car. His boss tutted and reached out to straighten Flug's lapels.

Flug didn't generally dress up but for Black Hat and for the nights they went out, he'd do it. Besides, his boss made sure he was dressed in his finest; polished pale shoes, a rich blue waistcoat with silver buttons, pale cream slacks, and a matching jacket left open at the front. It didn't suit him, really, what with the bag and the goggles and the nervous fidgeting. But Black Hat insisted. And when Black Hat insisted, you did as you were told.

He was in sharp contrast to his boss. Black Hat was dressed sharply in a midnight black, long tailed suit that rippled with a deep, rich red in the light. He held a lacquered, black, silver-tipped cane in one satin-gloved hand and had a red tie tucked into the dark gray vest his jacket was buttoned up over. His ever present top hat was decorated with a single, curled, pale feather.

Black Hat held out his arm and Flug reluctantly hooked it into his, "Let's go."

The two walked up a short drive, up a flight of marble steps, and through a set of polished double doors. Inside was a massive ballroom, filled with music, and chatter, and the sweet smell of champaign. Flug balked automatically at the huge crowd of fancily dressed folks milling about the room. Black Hat squeezed his arm and tugged him forward. They melded into the crowd, occasionally receiving the odd look but mostly given a clear path once people recognized the infamous Black Hat.

"Sir," Flug stumbled as his boss dragged him onto the dance floor, "Ah, n-no offense, sir, but this is an a-awful lot of people..."

Black Hat grinned, cocking an eyebrow as he grabbed Flug's hands and began steering him expertly around the other dancers in time to the music, "Out of your league, Doctor?"

Flug huffed into the paper bag, smelling the garlic on his breath, scowling at Black Hat, "Hardly. It's j-just...more than usual." He coughed awkwardly, glancing away as he mumbled, "And this is a bit cliche..."

A low chuckle from Black Hat drew his attention again, "My dear doctor, it's only cliche if I do _this_!”

And with that, he dipped the inventor as low as he possibly could. Flug let out a squeak and clutched at his boss so he didn't fall. But Black Hat would never let him go so easily. The villain was inches away from Flug, leering at him, tongue delicately tracing his discolored teeth as he looked into the inventor's tinted goggles.

"Shall we begin?" Black Hat breathed and it smelled like metal and fire.

Flug stared at him, almost enraptured, and then smiled, "Of course, boss."

Black Hat's grin turned manic, stretching across his face, and he straightened up, pulling his inventor with him. He spun Flug away and laughed, that deep, threatening, guttural sound that shook in your bones. Flug didn't see what his boss did next, he was too busy drawing a slim device from the inside of his dress coat. He snapped his wrist out, extending the object into a small, compact gun that whirred to life with the press of a button.

Screams were already erupting behind him and as the other guests turned to see what was going on, Flug open fired.

A man's chest exploded in a spray of red, splattering everyone in the vicinity with blood and shreds of tissue. Flug fired again before they could react and half a woman's torso was shredded, ribs snapping and spiraling through the air. He wasn't going for accuracy, just mayhem, destruction, and as much chaos as possible.

It was delicious pandemonium.

The ballroom exploded into screams and sprays of red. People pushed and shoved and trampled one another in an attempt to get away. But there was no where to go. The doors would not open and the windows would not break. Voices pounded the ceiling with screams, cries, begging, pleading, praying. It all went ignored. 

Flug continued to fire, still standing where his boss had left him, brow furrowed slightly as he selected targets at random and squeezed the trigger. He was taking aim again when someone smashed into his side, sending him crashing to the floor. The gun shot out of his hand and smashed into pieces on the hard marble. Pity, that. He’d have to work on a hardier design.

He had little time to contemplate this, however, because someone’s hands had closed around his throat and were cutting off his air supply. There was a large man pinning Flug to the floor, splattered in gore and wild-eyed with terror and rage. Flug panicked, kicking and clawing at the man’s face to try and get him off. But the man simply lifted Flug’s head off the floor by his neck and slammed it back down again, making lights flash across the inventor’s vision. The pain splitting through his skull made his head spin, disorienting him further as he ran out of oxygen.

Desperate, he swung his hands up and boxed his assailant in the ears.

The larger man reeled back with a shout but he was still sitting on top of Flug, keeping him on the floor. Flug tried to squirm out from under him, beating on the man’s legs with his fists as the heels of his dress shoes skidded across the floor, kicking fruitlessly to find purchase.

The man screamed in rage, and punched Flug in the face. His aim was low, probably to avoid hitting the goggles, and his knuckles shoved into Flug’s chin and mouth, splitting his lip against his teeth. Flug tasted sharp copper on his tongue and promptly lost his temper.

He reached back into the folds of his wrinkled suit coat and swept his hand out again in one swift movement. There was a soft sound of displaced air and then his attacker tumbled off of him, gagging, gurgling, and spraying blood from the slit in his throat. Flug climbed shakily back to his feet as the man’s writhing grew still, grimacing at the blood staining his white suit. He didn’t care for hand to hand combat but he could hold his own if need be. So he straightened his bag, withdrew a second, long and wickedly sharp dagger from inside his jacket, and launched himself into the crowd again.

****

It was carnage.

A massacre.

As the crowd thinned and the bodies piled up, Flug caught sight of his boss from across the ballroom. 

Black Hat’s body had become formless, a rippling, undulating form of whipping tentacles, jagged claws, and shiny blades. His shape arched high into the air and slammed back down into the remaining crowds of people, clinging to the walls of the ballroom, peeling itself from the windows and tangling in the decorations hanging from the ceiling. 

Flug found himself grinning under his wrinkled and bloodstained paper bag. His boss was in rare form tonight and was certainly enjoying himself.

“Monster!” Came a scream from behind him and Flug spun around in time to catch a candelabra to the side of his face. 

He stumbled, seeing stars, ears ringing with the blow. He’d probably get a concussion from that. He could definitely feel the blood seeping into his bag and oozing down his face. The inventor snarled, gritting his teeth against the pain, and raised his daggers only to duck another wild swing from the heavy candleholder. The woman holding it was screeching and cursing, makeup smeared and hair wild. She looked completely mad. Flug might have found it rather aesthetically pleasing if not for the threat on his life.

He ducked again, skidding backwards to avoid her aimless attempts to strike him. She wasn’t coordinated but the force and wild flailing made her dangerous. Flug stepped out of her reach and panic clutched at his chest when he felt his foot slide out from under him. He slipped and fell, slamming hard into the marble floor and soaking in the pool of blood that had tripped him up. The lady attacking him screamed and he let out a squeal of fright, shimmying back to avoid a blow that surely would have shattered his leg had it struck.

“Murderer!” She howled, taking another swing at him and sending him scrambling once more, “Monsters! Evil! _Villain_!”

Flug dodged the candelabra once again, used the momentum to roll into a crouched position, and launched himself at the woman. They both crashed back to the floor and Flug pressed the tip of one of his daggers under her chin. She hiccuped, choking on a sob as mascara blackened tears streaked down her face.

“Thank you for the compliments, ma’am. I’ll be sure to pass them along to my boss.” And with that, he thrust the blade into her neck and dragged it down. The impossibly sharp edge cut clean through her, sending a magnificent spray of red into the air. It splattered down Flug’s front, bathing his ruined suit and smearing on his goggles. 

He got to his feet slowly, trembling, chest heaving, and looked around. Black Hat was picking off the last remaining partygoers, impaling them on spikes of shadows or biting off their heads with a mouth full of sharp teeth. His form was growing smaller, compacting in itself, and Flug watched until his boss was back into his usual, humanoid shape, carefully straightening his tie. There was not a speck of blood or gore on him.

Black Hat looked pleased as punch as he sauntered towards Dr. Flug, holding a woman in the air by her throat. The stained toes of the woman’s dress shoes brushed the ground and her gagging could be heard over the subtle tap of Black Hat’s polished footwear. Flug watched him approach silently, clutching his daggers in shaking hands, his head pounding and his vision out of focus. That blow had certainly done a number on him.

“Why, Dr. Flug,” Black Hat purred as he drew near, wearing a grin that was showing far too many teeth, “You’ve gotten your expensive suit all dirty! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“S-sorry, sir, I got carried away, sir.” Flug ducked his head slightly, wincing at the pain that spiked in his skull as he did.

Black Hat’s eye narrowed and his smile vanished, “Were you injured?”

“Er,” Flug swallowed, tapping the flat of a dagger against his leg, “Y-yes, boss, s-sorry. It’s nothing major I’m sure. N-nothing to worry about!”

Black Hat seem unconvinced, “5.0.5 will look you over when we return to the mansion. Let me just dispose of this—“

“A-actually, sir, wait!” Flug shrank back as Black Hat glared at him. The woman in his grip was struggling less and less, eyes rolling back in her head.

“What.” Black Hat’s voice was a low, dangerous growl daring Flug to say something stupid.

“Um, it’s just, sir, I was wondering if you w-would consider letting me have that one?” Flug’s voice trailed off into a sheepish squeak as he curled in on himself even more. Black Hat stared and Flug’s heart thudded in his chest. His boss was at his most deadly after these sort of events, that wild, uncontrollable, destructive nature still bubbling far too close to the surface to be safe.

“You want to do the honors?” Black Hat was speaking in that luxurious purr again.

Flug shook his head, “N-no, boss, I actually have some tests I need to run and—“

“Oh, you need a rat!” Black Hat said cheerfully and threw the wheezing captive to the floor. A shoe pressed into the woman’s chest and the villain leaned so far over he was nearly bent in half, face inches from his victim’s, “ _Rest. Sleep, for now._ ” His words rippled with power, “ _You will be rejuvenated. You will be rested. You will sleep._ ” He straightened and grinned at the inventor still shivering across from him, “And as for you…”

Flug stiffened as Black Hat approached, a chill curling down his spine. He knew Black Hat would never cause any permanent harm to him but his boss was never shy about manhandling Flug black and blue to get his way. Black Hat noticed the inventor’s rigid posture and chuckled, raising his hands to run them up the stained sleeves of Flug’s jacket. Red smeared under his gloves but he didn’t seem to notice. He followed Flug’s trembling arms up to his shoulders, fingers danced around his neck, and then caught on the edge of the ruined bag still on his head. Flug gasped, a quiet puff of air no one but Black Hat could hear.

“You performed magnificently tonight. doctor,” Black Hat spoke softly, his gaze taking up the entirety of Flug’s hazy vision, the silken pad of his gloved thumb pressed against the inventor’s bloodied chin, keeping his head tilted up, “I do love it when you use your blades. You’re almost elegant enough to make me forget what an imbecile you are.”

Heat saturated Flug’s face, inching steadily down his neck and making his heart race wildly. His skin prickled, electric sparks of static fizzling across his nerve endings. Black Hat filled his senses; red and gray, that back of the teeth scent of ozone and super heated metal, the sensation of something so much bigger than your comprehension. Flug reveled in it, let the feelings wash over him, was thrilled to still find the icy bubbles of fear that popped in his chest and rattled down his bones. His chest was heaving as his breath became quicker. The daggers trembled in his grip.

Black Hat was grinning, tongue lolling out lazily between his teeth, “You’re a disgusting and foul creature. Practically a work of art. Willingly slaughtering your own kind for the fun of it. What a horrible monster you are.”

“Y-y-yes, sir, of course. Wh-whatever you say, boss.” Flug thought his voice sounded far away. His knees certainly felt like they were miles beneath him and teetering on toothpicks. Black Hat was his entire world.

“Sheep.” The villain growled and Flug felt it in his chest, “You’re even wearing white.” Black Hat leaned in close, closer, closest and Flug stopped breathing for a moment. His heart threw itself against his ribcage, his eyes wide beneath the gore smeared goggles. He tasted his own blood in his mouth, the tang of metal, concrete baked under the hot summer sun, and a burning spice that slammed right into his sinuses. 

When his boss pulled away, looking as smug as the cat who caught the mouse, it was all Flug could do to stay on his feet. Black Hat licked his lips, lapping up a trace of the blood left there and smiled that toothy grin of satisfaction,

“You pulled off the white suit rather well, doctor…but you look so much better in red.”

**Author's Note:**

> There is a reason they went out and did what they did, I just couldn't find a way to work it into the writing well enough. It's not just some random murder spree (though I have no doubt that BH has a bit of bloodlust that needs sating every once in a while).
> 
> Black Hat makes his business by selling inventions to villains. Villains only need those inventions when they have heroes to combat/harass/etc. Heroes only come out of the woodwork when someone's kicking the hornet's nest.  
> So what better way to rile up a bunch of heroes than to murder a bunch of wealthy folk, leave no one alive, steal nothing, and leave everyone to point fingers at each other? 
> 
> Also I really just wanted to write BH and Flug's version of a date night being a mass murder.


End file.
